


Valentine's Debate

by mwavefield



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6084042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwavefield/pseuds/mwavefield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the second time Hanamiya spends Valentine’s Day in Univeristy but this time it doesn’t fall on a weekend. He has to endure and survive and also participate in a debate. Though, the last one is his fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This is just maybe the worst day of this year. With a grunt Hanamiya grabs his ringing phone from a nightstand and slides his thumb across the screen, silencing the alarm. He remains under the blanket, listening to the tranquillity of his dorm room. It seems, his roommate was long gone and the realisation makes his chest lighter. Only for a second. Hanamiya jumps up from the bed and looks around. Indeed, roommate’s gone. He checks his phone and the time is OK.

 _Weird_ , Hanamiya thinks, staring at the mess on the other bed. His roommate always keeps that way arguing that there’s no point in tidying it up if he’s going to mess it at night anyway. And he usually wakes up way later than Hanamiya himself.

Hanamiya yawns not bothering to cover his mouth. His side of the room is neat, the other is messy as the bed. His vision becomes blurry and the sudden adrenaline rush wears off completely, making him sleepy again. Three hours of sleep is by no means enough. But the essay had to be done by today and it’s one of those prickly law professors that he can’t argue with since his grade depends on it. It has to be perfect or there’s no use turning it in.

A few blinks help Hanamiya to wake up a little and he picks up his toilet pouch with a toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, and a hairbrush, and throws a towel over his shoulder. He grabs the keys as soon as he’s ready to leave.

His eyes fall shut like he’s looking at the bright sun, they hurt, and it takes a moment to adjust. When they open, everything is red. Hanamiya looks around, forcibly blinking a few times every second, disoriented. Nothing but red and some pink. He closes the door and takes a deep breath. Three hours of sleep is definitely not enough but it’s not the first time it happens, what the hell then? He draws a theory. His normal sleep schedule was disturbed without any preparation, he chugged so much coffee he can’t count the litres and ate so many chocolate bars he still tastes the bitterness in his mouth; all of that to write a damn essay so that prick of a professor won’t find even one mistake, be it grammatical, punctuational, or formatting. His brain is exhausted as his body. Result: he sees things.

As the door swings open and it reveals a pink letter pouch glued on its other side, the dorm corridor doesn’t change in colour. It’s still red. Hanamiya makes a reluctant step outside and looks around. 

“Fucking Valentine’s Day,” he mutters and slams the door shut and locks it. 

He forgot about it at all. There’s a distant memory of girls forming a committee of some sort - they called it ‘coalition’ - to do something special on Valentine’s but it didn’t occur to Hanamiya they would go to such extremes.

“Idiots.” He kicks a red fabric stripe, one of many scattered on the floor, and it sticks to his foot instead of flying away. A vein pops on his forehead, giving him a headache, and he kicks the air a few times to no avail. The stripe doesn’t let go of his slipper.

Hanamiya groans and leans in and frees his slipper, throwing the red stripe to the wall. The walls are covered with big A1 cut-outs in the form of hearts, sometimes there are smaller ones filling the blanks. There are decorative flowers all over, too. Each door has a similar letter pouch; for anonymous confessions, Hanamiya guesses.

His walking turns into hopping from one free island to another. There’s pink glitter on the floor and those red and pink stripes all around, waiting for him to get into their trap. He won’t let that happen, though. It continues all the way to the bathroom and he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees that it was spared by the girls of his dorm.

After finishing all his bathroom business, Hanamiya walks, well, hops, back to his room. Last year Valentine’s Day fell on the weekend and he was able to escape it. In fact, he spent the entire day in the room, telling his roommate better not to disturb him, - to his great pleasure, the guy didn’t show up until the morning next day, - and read a book he’d meant to get to for a long time. This year, he’s not so lucky. He has to attend his lectures and submit his essay and while he has a perfect attendance so far, he can let it slip, yet it’s not something he’ll do.

Back in his room, Hanamiya slides from his plain black t-shirt and soft dark-blue pants, feeling the chill run down his spine. Shivering a little, he glances out the window and settles for a striped sweater covering his neck and regular jeans. According to no new emails, the timetable bears no changes -  _what a shame_  - so he packs all necessary notebooks for the day. Before he heads out, he puts on a warm swamp-green jacket, the colour reminds him of Kirisaki Daiichi, and checks everything.

His stomach grumbles the second he does the last turn with his keys. He forgot to eat. The realisation makes it all worse. The now more or less awoken mind focuses on both lack of sleep and hunger. With a sigh, Hanamiya turns to the stairs and makes his way to the kitchen. Hopping did a good job, his sneakers don’t shine with glitter and remain black as they should. 

On the first floor, there are several vending machines lined along the wall. They range from coffee, chips and snacks, and cola, to ready meals and hot menu. Hanamiya contemplates for a good few seconds but decides to push his luck in the kitchen. Stuff there is better in every way and his hands are too heavy, like they’re filled with lead, to search for a wallet.

He still hops a little and his eyes search the floor for pink and red out of habit as he makes his way to the kitchen. Hanamiya makes sure to look away and hold his breath around the coffee machine. The smell reminds of a horrible night he spent with his essay and the amount of coffee he consumed was definitely off limits. His throat tenses and there’s a sudden urge to throw up when his nose gets a hint of espresso. Hanamiya swallows it but the smell grows on the closer he’s to the kitchen.

There’s only one person who drinks this specific kind of espresso in the entire dorm and who can drink it any given day and time. Seto, his former teammate.  


	2. Chapter 2

Pinching his nose, Hanamiya walks into the kitchen. It’s the second biggest room in the dorm, the relax room is twice as large, with tables to eat at by his right side and everything that’s needed to prepare a decent meal by his left. A tall figure with a long ponytail flutters between the cooker and the fridge and a deep bowl on the counter. The smell of espresso fills the entire room but Seto’s nowhere to be found. Hanamiya, still feeling a sickness in his throat, walks over to the large window-door on the other side and slides it open a few centimetres to ventilate the room. 

“Oh, Hanamiya-kun, it’s you!” the girl behind him says and he recognises her immediately as Seto’s girlfriend. “How you’ve been doing?”

He inhales fresh, cold air for a while before saying, “As usual.” He turns to her and sees she’s wearing a yellow apron above a plain shirt and jeans. “Where’s Kentarou?”

“He’s still sleeping, of course,” she says smiling. “I’m making a breakfast, as you could see. It’s Valentine’s Day after all. Are you spending it with anyone?”

“No.” He waves it off. 

She shakes her head and stops mixing a beige whatever in the bowl, looking directly at him. Hanamiya knows that look. She’s calculating and studying him, deciding whether it’s worth saying what she actually thinks or she’d rather change the subject. And he’s honestly still too tired to care. He’d care for a warm bath or mom’s cooking or his bed (or anything that’d serve as bed.)

“I know you for almost a year, ten months to be exact,” she starts and he knows she chose the first option, “since Kentarou introduced us. As much as you like to be an asshole, rather, as much as you like to think you’re one, you’re far away from that.”

“Don’t lecture me.” He rolls his eyes. “I came here for food.”

“I’m not lecturing you, I’m telling you that it’s OK to, you know, get a proper girlfriend, with whom you can spend the Valentine’s Day.”

Hanamiya thinks to close the distance between them and tell her just how bullshit this entire situation is but stops without making a single step. She’s taller than him, in fact. 

“You know, I’d rather cancel this day altogether,” he says with malice in his voice that’s stiffened by a yawn. “If you wanted me to appreciate this day, you could start with not littering the entire dorm in a pink and red garbage.”  

Hanamiya, feeling satisfied with her silence as she went back to her bowl and mixing, opened the fridge. There are containers everywhere, all labeled with names and room numbers. There’s no raw food, except the gallons of milk if that counts. He scans everything and at the very back, on the highest shelf, he finds his room number but a different name. That wouldn’t the first time he takes his roommate’s lunch and wouldn’t be the last, but Hanamiya always pays him back in cash. 

A distant memory flashes in front of him as he takes the container and sets it on the counter. The very first day they both moved in and already found a reason to hate each other. The war ensured. In the end, it ended, but after a certain situation with a stolen container (the one that made Hanamiya almost kill his roommate and promise to do so if the word got out) Hanamiya preferred to maintain a balance. He eats whenever, which is rare but occasionally happens like today, and while he fiddles in the noodles and meat with a fork, he texts his roommate about it.

“It’s nice not to be alone all the time,” a soft mutter draws him out of his thoughts. She notices his gaze immediately. “Just thinking out loud.”

She only receives a shrug as an answer and Hanamiya leaves, dropping both container and fork in the sink. He is  _not_  alone. He has friends and there’s nothing wrong with the fact they’re all from Kirisaki Daiichi days. Seto and Hara are right here, so they meet up quite a lot. Furuhashi isn’t far away and they have plenty opportunities to go out together. Hanamiya is probably the one he talks the most. Yamazaki is a bit further from all of them, but they see him almost each weekend. It’s more than enough, Hanamiya thinks. There’s even Imayoshi here with whom he plays poker along with random students from all courses, and, rarely, they play chess. 

So Hanamiya is not alone, he has people to spend time with when he feels like it; he merely chooses to spend most of it in peaceful solitude. There’s a difference.


	3. Chapter 3

The cold air clears his mind, albeit his body is still exhausted. Hanamiya learns that as long as he doesn’t think of a bed and sleeping his eyelids don’t grow heavy. 

The snowflakes fall down, dancing around the trees and people, and flutter as the wind currents change their paths. Hanamiya enters the University territory along with many other students, taking the familiar scenery in. Not counting the prestige and future that will come with it, the relaxation this view always gives him is the reason he chose this place. He loosens his shoulders and slows down. The majority hurries and talks loudly about the Valentine’s, making their way into law and math buildings that stand beside each other, separated by an arc. 

Hanamiya shifts to the far left, joining the fellow law students. Somewhere to his right, he’s sure he sees Seto walking with his girlfriend that holds something —  _a bear?_  — tight in her arms as well as a familiar glint of glasses he knows well since middle school. The three disappear behind a Christmas tree right in front of a math building — they have a lot more enthusiastic people than law faculty does. 

A gust of warm air hits Hanamiya’s face as he walks past the open doors into the halls of Faculty of Law building. A yawn escapes from his mouth before he has a chance to cover it. He has to blink a few times to fight the sleepiness. The walls have less pink and red on them than the dorm’s do, but there’s still too much to his liking. Most of them A1 size calling out to students to come to a Cupid’s Party or asking if anyone needs help with confessing. 

(Hanamiya stops at this one out of curiosity, wondering what the heck these crazy people have come up with. Apparently, some guys offer to give chocolates on behalf of one if one’s too scared or embarrassed to do that themselves. He scoffs and rolls his eyes at them for wasting his time.)

The cheerful atmosphere irks him beyond his belief. Hanamiya admits he misses his dorm. Despite its colourful decor right now, there are considerably fewer people around who smile and hold hands and eat chocolate. Don’t get him wrong, he loves chocolate as long as it’s bitter and 100% cacao, and even wouldn’t mind getting some. Alas, after a night spent with nothing but coffee and chocolate he can’t bring himself to even look at it without sickness arising in his throat. And now, it’s everywhere. 

The happy people and chocolates (probably, sweet, which makes it worse.) Hanamiya chooses that the floor titles are interesting enough for today and keeps his eyes on them, counting how many he needs to pass before he reaches his lecture room. He loses the count on the stairs. Too many people trying to squeeze in and he has to fight his way up. 

 _This is why I always come early_ , he thinks, pushing someone to the side.  

The lecture room is open and Hanamiya sees before entering it that the professor is not there. One glance is enough for him to form his options. The room is filled with classmates faces, people who belong to this University but not law faculty, and strangers who must be here because of Valentine’s Day. The back row is jammed, no seats left. The middle-middle, where he prefers to sit, is packed but has spaces left. It’s full of couples just like everything up to the back. The lower it gets to the first few rows, the fewer pairs they are and more loners who usually sit leaving one seat between them, now forced to sit with each other. 

It’s a no-brainer, unfortunately, this time. Hanamiya walks to professor’s podium and checks his name off. The essay that he held responsible for his today’s condition plops right on top of many others. For a split second, the image of him turning away and walking all the way back to the nice scenery outside holds him on. Hanamiya pushes it away. Attendance is often times more valued than anything else. Without it, you don’t gain the approval of your professors. Without that, you don’t pass. And Hanamiya doesn’t just pass, he aces, he gets one of the highest grades in the entire faculty. One absence might not do much but if he can attend he will. And he sure can, since he haven’t once slipped on the icy road in the park that lies between here and the dorm. 

Once he turns his attention to first rows he gets a wave. It’s a girl who wears an immaculate white shirt and black formal jacket without sleeves with a light blue scarf tied loosely around her neck. Hanamiya knows her. She’s one of the very few people who attend special lectures the faculty holds for them in the evenings. She points her thumb behind her back and tilts with her body, revealing an empty seat. Her face remains calm all this time and Hanamiya gives an appreciative nod out of courtesy. 

Inside, he feels like she’s read his thoughts. It’s annoying. He shakes his head a little, when he’s out of her sight, pushing his way to the seat on the second row in the very middle. After a few seconds, he realises it is the middle seat as the overall number is odd. Technically, there’s no such thing as a ‘seat’. Only a whole long wooden bench that takes up an entire row.  The silent agreement between every student states that everyone’s entitled to a certain amount of space — you should be able to write without your elbows entering your neighbours’ space. This is a seat. 

The annoyance fades away when he takes his  _seat_  behind her. Hanamiya thinks it’s because he’s tired enough to be annoyed for long.  _Lucky you_ , he thinks with a smirk on his face. However, when the professor comes and starts speaking his lips pursed, eyebrows frowned, and eyes tensed. He has to focus on this old man’s reading. The voice is monotone and the sentences are complicated as they dig to “the most fun parts of law studies.”

Hanamiya is sure the old man is a sadist. He even dares to say the old man’s worse than him since he’s torturing so many students he teaches while Hanamiya may have broken the lives of a few. Small numbers if you consider that soon enough he’ll graduate and there will be other students to torture. Maybe, he’ll settle the score once he’s out of this place. The thought makes him chuckle. 

The girl in front of him, — he can’t remember her name at all, meaning he never knew it in the first place — she winces. Enough for Hanamiya to notice and realise it’s because of his chuckle. 

_She’s sharp._

Listening and writing notes take most of his attention so he decides to observe her later. Perhaps, the next lecture. They have maths and it will be easy for him to do multiple things at once. 

The minutes drag on as the old man continues to read a complicated text with too many complicated words that Hanamiya is sure most need a dictionary to understand. It’s not hard for him but he has to admit that the lack of sleep is showing; he has to concentrate on the reading and fight a headache it’s giving him. 

When 90 minutes are up, he’s glad to pack up and leave. The next lectures shouldn’t be as draining and this alone makes him sigh in relief. His classmates start to chat. This doesn’t help his headache. 

Hanamiya urges the people in front of him to move.  _Damn this middle seat._ He contemplates jumping on the table and using that as a shortcut but the old man is turned his way, looking through essays. There are still a few hours until he leaves and that’s the deadline. Hanamiya prefers to get these out of his way the first chance he gets. 

The hall is still full of annoyingly cheerful people. All they talk about is Valentine’s Day. Hanamiya keeps his eyes on the girl he plans to observe. Now, he sees that she’s also wearing black office pants and grey boots that go up her knees. The clothes scream that she belongs to The Nerd group. Always immaculate, always doing their homework, always submitting essays and assignments on time, always adhering to the rules, always so fucking perfect. 

The kids that still think they’re in high school.

And yet, Hanamiya can’t put her there. His instincts may be duller today, even so he trusts them enough when they tell him she doesn’t belong there. The moment when she winced at his chuckle, a very light one, almost none at all, plays in his head like a movie clip over and over. No, he didn’t imagine it. She heard him and reacted. The two guys who sat by his sides didn’t flinch. 

It might be ridiculous he’s getting fixated on her today of all days, but it’s way better than scanning the faces that pass him by or the pink and red posters hung on the walls. 

He watches her walk. Casual. A big bag on her right shoulder forces her to tilt to the left to maintain a balance. It’s heavy. She’s either carrying all textbooks they have or a laptop. It could fit a 15-inch laptop. Her pace is the same as his, which is interesting since her strides are shorter. The hair is not long by his standards, loose. 

She walks in the direction of their maths classroom cleverly avoiding the upcoming crowds of people. She doesn’t stick to the walls and their side of the traffic as Hanamiya does. Instead, she chooses to manoeuvre between the two streams. At first, he doesn’t understand it. It’s harder and just plain dangerous for someone smaller than him. 

To be completely honest, Hanamiya wouldn’t do it himself. Not on Valentine’s Day. People hold hands and there are just way more of them than any other day. And he’d prefer to have the least amount of contact as he can. 

Then he sees it. When she turns 90 degrees and squeezes between the two couples, her bag turned sideways, as she has to immediately duck under another couple’s hands, he sees it. Her eyes are shining and lips are spread in a wide smile. 

_She’s enjoying it._


	4. Chapter 4

The math lecture room doesn’t have straight-line rows, instead they’re bent in a semicircle and sliced into three equal pieces. The Girl — that’s how Hanamiya nicknamed his target for now — to no surprise sits in the middle piece on the first row, the closest seat to the professor’s podium. He maintains his distance, watching her without drawing too much attention. 

She gently places her giant bag on the table and pulls out a textbook, some supplementary materials, a notebook, and a pencil case, arranging them around her but not invading her neighbours’ seat spaces. The Nerd group, again, she’s acting like one of them, yet Hanamiya’s gut won’t stop reminding him about her reaction to his subtle chuckle. Well, that’s why he decides to sit right next to her. 

 _They say, keep your enemies closer, don’t they?_  He leers at her and has to immediately swap it with a pleasant smile, when she glances at him and stiffens. 

The Girl tenses even more when Hanamiya drops his bag on the table, her pen almost rolled down at the impact, and settles next to her. Perhaps, it’s because there are still plenty of other seats left. More than half of them are empty. The majority of the students are still making their way to here and Hanamiya is eager to see their faces when they realise this room has lesser capacity than the previous. 

Despite the fact that Hanamiya is maintaining the unspoken seat rules, he can move his elbows freely without touching her or anything of hers, the Girl keeps unconsciously shifting in the opposite of him direction. He almost snickers at this but decides against it. If she’s as sharp as he dares to suppose or maybe even hope, then she might realise he’s watching her sooner than he’d like. 

When the lecture starts, the Girls composure changes. She straightens her back and has a pen ready to take notes, notebook open on a blank page. Her full attention is on the professor and the projector she’s using. The Girl no longer shifts away from him. 

Hanamiya watches. The Girl writes her notes in clear, neat handwriting, and looks at the professor in the eyes and nods when appropriate to show she understands the material. If she reaches for her textbook or the supplementary material (Hanamiya actually notes some of the books for his personal later use), she’s careful not to bother him. Sometimes, her free hand wanders off to fumble with her scarf.

The lecture drags on and after Hanamiya sees there’s nothing new coming, he concentrates on the projector. It’s just a little more interesting than watching her. Maybe, he thinks, it was a bad idea to learn the material in advance during the winter break out of sheer boredom. 

He has no trouble solving the problems when the professor decides to spice things up and shows them multiple equations on the screen. He hastily writes down the answers, having to remind himself to show how he got them because he really preferred to do most of the calculations in his head. 

There’s no need for him to look around, he knows he’s the first to finish when the professor, a middle aged woman, raises an eyebrow on him as he leans back on his seat and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t even bother to double check his answers. 

The Girl is second to finish. Five minutes later than him. Her hands lay on the notebook and he assumes she stares at the floor or somewhere in front of her. Hanamiya wonders if he’s not the only one learning the material ahead of time. Then she turns her head ever so slightly in his direction and steals a few glances (three, he counts) at his notebook. 

Hanamiya brings himself forward, stretching his back as if he can’t get comfortable, to take a better view on her face. She frowns at the floor as if there’s something wrong with it. He cups his cheek in his right palm and peeks at her notebook, his face directed at the projector in front of them. Her hands form an inverted V and what he’s looking for is actually in between. 

Such a simple, typical mistake at the very end. Subtraction instead of addiction. 

It takes her a whole minute before she fixes the answer. 

She doesn’t look in his direction anymore until Hanamiya picks up a pen and gives it a few spins, bored. Her attention is on his deft fingers, masterfully twirling a blank-inked pen. The Girl looks at it for a second before forcing herself to look anywhere but the magnetising repeating movements he makes.  

Hanamiya  _knows_  she’s fighting herself not to look. He did the exact same thing back when he saw Imayoshi do it, while they discussed the training regimes for their very first training camp together. Senpai continued to make distracting movements with his pen and Hanamiya refused to learn the tricks until he realised he unintentionally repeated them during one of his classes. Curse his memory. 

(Also, he can’t believe he’s recalling this right now.)

Her eyes stop flickering to his fingers when professor starts speaking again, taking them through the solutions to each problem. Her attentions shifts drastically as if Hanamiya didn’t exist in the first place. 

_Once a nerd, always a nerd._

He chuckles on purpose loud enough for only her to hear. A rush of amusement goes through his body as he watches her wince at the sudden noise. She cautiously glances at him and immediately stares back at the notebook the second their eyes meet. 

It seems to Hanamiya she’s counting the seconds, because only after exactly 30 she allows herself to bend over and bury her head in the notebook in a way she won’t be able to see him without turning her head. 

_Two can play at this game._

Hanamiya copies her posture. He pushes his left hand in her line of sight, getting dangerously close to breaching the unspoken seat agreement, and does a few penspinning tricks he hasn’t done today. It doesn’t matter if the professor sees it, too. He can do his work and spin at the same time; the latter doesn’t require his attention at all as he polished his skill to the point where he does it like walking. 

The Girl bites on her lips, trying to regain her control. Her eyes dart from his fingers to the professor to her notebook to his fingers again. She’s distracted and quite interested in his little performance. This makes her sigh in annoyance. Hanamiya is sure, she’s not annoyed with him, not as much as he’d like, but more with herself. For letting herself get distracted. 

She looks at his hair this time, careful not to meet his watchful eyes. 

_She’s studying me._

He cocks his head up and narrows his eyes to make sure she knows that he knows what she’s doing. This doesn’t bring the effect he wanted. She keeps staring, at his temple now, yet not daring to turn her head. She’s visibly tensed, her fingers intertwine and grip on each other so hard her they lose their colour. 

There are many ways he can start a conversation now and Hanamiya is just about to open his mouth to at least learn her name — because he’s annoyed at calling her the Girl —  when she sighs in relief, straightens her back, shoulders back as if she threw off his sleazy spider web. She relaxes with her whole body and there’s a small smile forming on her face. 

The Girl stays like this for the rest of the lecture without skipping a beat even when he taps the desk or clicks his pen repeatedly, earning glares from his other classmates. 

It’s disappointing how fast their little game ended. But something tells Hanamiya that she’ll entertain him more as the day only began. And, now,  _that’s_  exciting.


	5. Chapter 5

His next attempts at sitting next to the Girl fail miserably. Hanamiya has to admit she’s pretty damn good at manoeuvring between streams of people, easily making her way between them to the next class. Every now and then he catches her smiling eyes and he’s absolutely certain she’s pleased when with his inability to follow her. Her smaller figure gives her an advantage he didn’t think he needed. While she faces the danger of being squashed or crushed by others, she takes the risk graciously and survives the crowd’s pressure with ease. 

Hanamiya knows attempting to manoeuvre like her can lead to some broken bones. His shoulders are too wide and would bump into others’; he’s strong enough to push through few people, but not the ongoing, never-ending stream of people. He knows he should feel pissed about this but he doesn’t. In fact, he watches her for as long as he can before she disappears from his view, their eyes not meeting once. But Hanamiya is sure she makes all her side-turns on purpose, to check if he’s still around. 

He waits for something he can’t quite put his finger on. 

If he can’t sit next to her, Hanamiya finds a seat with a good vantage point on her. At some point he wonders if this is considered stalking, but disperses it the second he thinks of it. First of all, she should not have played that game with him during maths. Second, she should not have avoided him in the halls, knowing what he’s doing. Her fault either way. 

Hanamiya sighs and stares at the wall beyond the professor. His stomach grumbles, eating itself in displeasure. The familiar sickness in his throat arises again, reminding him of the horrible, almost sleepless night he had. He yawns.

_Dammit_. Hanamiya shakes his head and locks his fingers together, squeezing them until they’re white, drained of blood, and hurt more and more, until he no longer wants to sleep. His vision steadies and eyes dart to the Girl on their own. 

She turns away. Hanamiya blinks a few times to fight the rest of his sleepiness away and doesn’t move his gaze anywhere from her. She sits on the second row this time, right in front of the professor, while he is to her right on the fourth row. This seat may seem like a horrible place for spying, yet it’s not. One could draw a line between them and it wouldn’t touch any other student. A direct connection, so to say. 

_She watched me,_  he thinks.  _But why?_  Hanamiya drills his eyes into the visible corner of hers.  _Does she see me with her peripheral vision?_  He was so used to being the one who watches that when tables turned, even for a short while, he feels… confused. Was it because she’s annoyed with him? Or because of curiosity? Or just an accident? No, she had to turn her head too much for it to be an accident. Or is she interested? 

Is  _he_  interested?

Hanamiya forces himself to look at his notes. He’s  _not_  interested. He’s merely tired of this shitty day, he hates Valentine’s, and he tries to get all the fun he can get while he goes to all lectures like a good student he is (at least, to his professors.) She, a nameless girl, is a mere tool to do that. He’s using her and nothing more. 

At thoughts about her, his gaze shifts to her for a second and they lock again. This time, she looks away only for a moment and doesn’t turn her head back to the professor or her notes. A faint smile spreads on her lips. She acknowledges him and is not bothered by his continuous staring at all. 

This time, he’s the first one to break the contact that lasted at most three seconds. 

A strange feeling spreads in his chest, fighting off his sleepiness better than the cold air and physical pain put together. She’s not weird out by his behaviour and she hasn’t given him a look of rejection. She  _smiled_. Despite Hanamiya’s best effort, a faint smile like the one she gave him appears on his lips and he tries to disguise it as another yawn. 

_I don’t even know her._  He repeats in his mind.  _Not even a name. Nothing._

Hanamiya tries to convince himself this for the rest of the lecture, occasionally glancing in her direction (and he’s  _not_  hoping to find her looking at him again.) When the time’s up, he packs up at a casual pace and makes sure he’s a few meters behind her after they leave the classroom.


	6. Chapter 6

The hall’s cheerful atmosphere is still unsetting. Once used to students reading, writing, breathing the law studies and lawsuit cases any time of the day, you name it, be it breakfast, lunch, or middle of the night, Hanamiya feels like the normalcy has been ripped from his life. He no longer focuses on the decor as he walks a good few steps behind the Girl but the people around. 

No textbooks in their hands, small bags, people dressed more casually than ever. They don’t talk about the things they’ve learnt, world news, politics, or even mere University rumours. No one talks about the damn Christmas tree in front of the maths building anymore, while just yesterday people complained that “it’s technically no longer Christmas or even holidays, it should be taken down.”

As ridiculous as it sounds, Hanamiya is used to this to the point he kind of misses the obscure arguments regarding The Tree Altercation. He has to shake his head to physically get these thoughts out of his head and blinks a few times when he sees the blurry mess the world has become. The lack of sleep keeps reminding him of its existence. 

The Girl shifts to the wall, which comes as a surprise, and goes with the flow instead of navigating her way through in between. His eyes narrow at her. All these previous times she made a show out of it, manoeuvring in a way he couldn’t, arriving so the seats next to her are taken. Now, he easily follows her steps and that’s what makes him think. Just what exactly is on her mind? 

She makes a turn, leaving the main hall, then after a while another, going deeper into the maze. They’re in what would be a branch of a branch of the main hall and it has considerably fewer students. So little Hanamiya can walk freely on his side without brushing his shoulders with anyone’s. The classroom they’re headed towards is in this general direction, yes, but this is a different path he’s never used.ewer

Her strides are shorter but quicker, she looks straight and confident in what she’s doing.  _Weird_ , he thinks. Everything she did before was about enjoying the crowd’s presence and now she’s avoiding it on purpose. Not to mention it’s going to take them a little longer to get to their next lecture even if you add the time others will spend pushing their way through. She can’t possibly be late, can she?

Suddenly, the Girl quickens her pace as if she saw her goal and now was header towards it. She makes a diagonal beeline to the wall, each two strides closer to pink and red posters. Except, one poster is black and white.  _Ran out of ink?_  Hanamiya stares at the blurry, from the far distance, spot. The Girl slows down when she’s about to pass it and her gaze lingers on it, studying the content. She nods to herself. He can’t understand whether she confirmed or decided on something from where he is. 

Slowing down, he lets her disappear from his view. The black and white colours on the simple A4 sheet are intentional, he realises as soon as he reads it. 

 

**DEBATE CLUB INVITES YOU**

**ON A SPECIAL DAY**

**ONLY TODAY**

**VALENTINE’S PROMPTS**

At lunch in room 404 see what debating is all about

Watch the fierce battle between the President and VP of the club

Experience and participate in an authentic debate yourself at 5:30PM

**Sing-up during lunch + pick your own prompt!**

(Refreshing drinks and snacks will be provided for 5:30PM session)

 

This is the worst poster he’s ever seen in his life. But now one thing Hanamiya is sure of is that the Girl planned this route, she knew this poster hangs here, and she knew he’d follow her here. She wanted him to see this poster. 

 _If this is an invitation, then I shall accept it._ He smirks to himself and his eyes shine with a thrill of what’s coming soon.  _And it better be worth it._


	7. Chapter 7

The room 404 is in the very same hall where Hanamiya first saw that black and white poster. Clenching the plastic box with noodles, he stands in front of the door and tries to understand whether or not he’s late to the party. After all, he did spend half of the lunch time in line to buy himself food and since the cafeteria was packed with people he found one more reason to visit the debate club. 

“Hello! Are you here for the debate?” 

Hanamiya turns to see a guy in a white shirt, black pants and a necktie who smiles with his teeth showing, elated to see him for some reason. 

“I am,” he says with a nod. “Am I late?”

The guy laughs and opens the door for him, gesturing to go first. “No, no, we plan to begin in a few minutes since everyone just started to gather.”

“Good.”

Hanamiya actually wonders how many people the guy expected to show up. If it was 15, then he’d be right. There are no more than that; the room feels too empty and it’s something that makes Hanamiya feel elated, too. He didn’t realise how truly annoyed he was with people until he finally saw the lack of them. 

“Oh, and feel free to eat here.” The guy pats him on the shoulder and leaves to sit on the first row, where some other guy starts discussing the debate with him.

(Watching them, Hanamiya realises he must’ve met either the president or the vice-president of the debate club.)

His eyes scan the rest of the room, spotting the Girl on the fifth row. It’s surprising to see her behind everyone else and completely alone. But then, it’s better for him this way. 

She doesn’t flinch when he plops next to her, only unzips her pencil case and begins to write. ‘If boys pay on Valentine’s Day then shouldn’t girls pay on White Day respectively?’ Hanamiya wonders if it’s addressed to him for a second, but then he thinks it must be the theme of the lunch’s debate. Then she draws a neat table with a pencil and a ruler, naming one column ‘Affirmative’ and the other ‘Opposition.’

His stomach growls and he pulls out a fork and begins to eat, stealing glances at the Girl and the people below them, who must be other debate club members. Hanamiya can’t imagine anyone else but them coming. Which is good; he’s happy with the comfortable silence filled with whispers of others’ that end the moment they become too loud. 

_It’s nice_ , he thinks. 

The guy he’s met stands with the other in front of them and that’s when Hanamiya notices there are two podiums instead of one standing beside each other within good five meters. On any other day he’d notice right away but his lack of sleep might be affecting him more than he initially thought. 

“Dear fellow students,” the guy looks at Hanamiya in particular, “friends,” he looks at the few people on the second and third rows, “and members of the debate club,” he says, eyes on the Girl first then everyone on the first row.  

_She’s a member?_

“I welcome you all to our today’s special debate! Let me say this first, after we finish you can sign up and choose a prompt for 5:30PM session. We’d be happy to see you again. Now onto our topic, today it is—“

It’s exactly what the Girl has already written. The guy goes into the rules and procedures, probably assuming Hanamiya has no clue how everything works. It’s almost offending and there’s no way the guy wouldn’t know he’s enrolled in Faculty of Law. It  _is_  the Faculty of Law building! Seriously? 

_Speaking of the Girl_. Hanamiya turns to her with his body, letting his head rest on his fist. 

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Hm?” She spares him a glance, looking back at the stage. “____ ____.”

_You know the rules_ , he rolls his eyes at her. 

“Hanamiya Makoto,” he offers. 

“I know,” she says and tenses immediately, moving closer to the desk and staring intently at the guy who declares the beginning of the debate. 

Hanamiya can’t help but gawk at her.  _What does it mean ‘I know’? Just fucking how? Did she learn it before or after today?_  All sorts of questions circle in his mind, not one answer does. 

She pretends not to notice him at all and her cheeks flush bright red but her eyes travel to his figure and her teeth dig into the soft tissue of her bottom lip as if she wants to add something. And yet, she never does. 

“How?” he probes. 

She writes down the points under the ‘Affirmative’ column first and when he thinks she’s just going to ignore him from now on, he opens his mouth to ask her again until he gets what he wants, she whispers, “Long story, later.” And goes back to writing more. 

He wants to be angry and do something, say something to make her pay for not meeting his expectations — what was the point of inviting him here if she’s just going to actually watch the damn debate? — but he yawns too hard his jaw hurts. The sting of pain helps him calm down and gather his thought together.

There’s still plenty of time to do what he has to and he has the rest of the lunch to come up with a decent strategy. He won’t play her game anymore, instead, he will pull her into his own one. He will let all his questions be unanswered for a very short while. 

_Good things come to those who wait, right?_  A wild smirk crosses his face and he doesn’t try to hide it. She can look at it all she wants, it won’t help her avoid what’s coming. After all, Hanamiya Makoto is one of the most patient predators who will wait for the best opportunity to get their revenge on the gazelle who dares to cross his path.


	8. Chapter 8

To Hanamiya’s surprise no one leaves after the debate, instead they all head to the bottom of the auditorium where a crowned winner, the President of the club, stands with a clipboard in his hands. 

Hanamiya and the Girl make their way together and their shoulders brush against each other. In this position, he thinks, it’d be so easy to push her hard enough and make it look like an accident.  _Some things never change_ , he smirks but doesn’t act on it and she eyes him cautiously. He’s sure she’s aware of her pitiful situation. Oh, he  _wants_  her to know it. 

“I promised ____-san to choose first,” the President says when they’re near him and nods at the Girl. 

She takes the clipboard. There’s a simple table with list of prompts and two columns beside it labeled ‘Affirmative’ and ‘Opposition’. Hanamiya scans it while she reads each one thoroughly. Searching for the pen in his bag with one arm, not taking his eyes off the paper, he finds the best one to execute his plan.

He reaches for the clipboard and the Girl gives it up unwillingly, frowning and giving him a questioning look. 

“Mind?” he mocks her, already writing their names together. 

“I guess, I don’t have much of a choice,” she mutters so only he can hear. “What topic?”

“Should we continue with Valentine’s Day or not?” he answers. “It’s not even traditionally Japanese.”

“That’s true. And yet, it’s not a reason enough.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss this.” He gives the clipboard back to the President and leans in to her ear. “You seem to be pretty protective of it, don’t you?”

“ _You_  seem to be pretty against it.” She fights back. Her squeezed against each other fingers tell him she’s trying hard to keep her composure. 

She looks away. “We have until 5:30PM to prepare.”

“Fine by me,” he says, amused. “Good luck.”

Hanamiya turns on his heels and leaves her behind him for the first time today since he marked her as his victim. She’s crumbling and he’s going to get under her skin. 

On the second thought, he realises, he just voluntarily traded his free evening time he could’ve spent sleeping —  _finally_  — for some idiotic debate and a girl. Just what was he thinking? His mind goes crazy working on three hours of sleep and half a day awake already. The day can’t get shittier, too. 

The last lectures Hanamiya sits as far as he can without getting on couple’s territory and searches the Internet to prove his ‘Opposition’ side. He does it without serious intent to win. The judges probably don’t only favour her, as their member, but also favour the day. He can’t care less. He wants to win in his game and that’s all that matters. 

He heads to the library when the lectures end and everyone rushes out of the university. It’s pleasing to see it empty, deprived of people. Almost dead silent. He’s never seen it like this and it’s honestly the best feeling. He walks to the furthest bookshelves with the “casual books” as everyone calls them, which are just non-scholar. Fantasy, Young Adult, light reads, even manga. He picks the first book with a light blue cover and sits on the floor, leaning on the bookshelf.

This story isn’t so bad. When his alarm rings, he gets up and checks out the book with his student ID, heading to the room 404. He’s excited.


	9. Chapter 9

They stand beside their podiums, partially facing each other and mostly the audience. Hanamiya has no notes with him as everything is in his brain. He’s not serious about winning the actual debate but destroying the annoying calm composure of this girl. 

She pulls out various printouts from a manila folder and looks him dead in the eyes.  _I’m going to win this_ , she must be saying. He smirks at her confidence and challenge and just how ridiculous (serious) she is about this. It’s funny. 

The Girl is Affirmative, so she begins her speech first.

Hanamiya listens to her. There’s the definition, origin and how Valentine’s Day came to Japan, and differences that they incorporated. Such as White Day. Her position’s based on the good and positive sides for the average person. 

What’s most interesting is that her voice is stern and yet there’s a slight note of passion to it for her topic. He can see it in the words she chooses and careful pauses she makes to collect her breath when she gets to  _the_  good parts of the celebration. On the other side, Hanamiya understands that she’s not blinded by it. It’s a strange appreciation he can’t comprehend. Somehow, it’s different from those stupid guys who are everywhere.

Her time’s up and he’s next. Unfortunately, the definition she gave is too right and neutral which makes it impossible to re-define it in his favour. It’s too general and simple. In fact, he can damage his speech by doing so.

Should they continue with Valentine’s Day or not?

Definitely no. Stop with this shit and let him rest. 

His seven-minute speech is half-assed at best. There’s not much to say to begin with but Hanamiya squeezes out of everything he knows and found as best he can. He may be tired and grumpy about it but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make himself look stupid. 

After that comes the part he’s most excited for. The rebuttals of the opponent’s arguments and a chance to engage in the talk. 

It appears, the Girl enjoys debunking and destroying his points. 

“—Which proves this particular argument of yours is opinion-based, not fact-based and, therefore, should not be used as an argument. “ She begins to search within her many notes. “The data shows—” 

“Who cares about the data?” he asks when she pauses. First things first. Make her break the rules.

Their eyes lock. Hanamiya’s are amused, not serious. Hers are full of disapproval, serious.

“I do,” she says. “The data is the research. And research is the key to almost everything.”

“As you said, “almost.” Do you seriously believe that if you found a bunch of young adults saying yes to the tradition that was enforced on us by a marketing campaign before we were even born then it magically makes you right? There are more people than that.”

Her jaw tightens. She didn’t expect him to find out which research exactly she used. “It’s the most recent data available.” 

_Not the best._

To his surprise, she doesn’t run away which means she actually admits it. Goody-two-shoes? No, she used this research when there were plenty of others just as relevant that would make some of her points crumble. It’s subtle deception and he’s actually happy she ended up doing what he least expected (but still assumed as the last option.)

_Good. Now, let’s fall off the edge._

“You’re too into this,” he says. “You really like Valentine’s, don’t you?”

He’s breaking the rules and he knows it. It’s necessary for him to be the first one; she’s too pedantic as it appears so far.

“Should I not?” she asks nonchalantly and holds up a hand to the President and the judges. They won’t stop them now. “It’s a personal opinion which doesn’t belong here.”

“You’re angry because I don’t like it,” he lies. 

“It’s your preference,” she says slowly, choosing her words carefully, “and I do not feel good or bad towards it.”

Maybe he wasn’t lying so much. 

“Do you even have someone to celebrate it with?” 

He throws her off. She’s falling and her cheeks turn just a bit pink. Not the same pink as the posters. 

“No.” Her voice is stunned. Suddenly, she stands even straighter —  _if it were even possible_  — and pushes her shoulders back, doing that same swift motion of shaking off his web. “I don’t need anyone to be able to appreciate it. I want to have, I won’t deny it, and I’m looking forward to it.” 

She pauses but she’s not done. Her gaze is somewhat pitying. “I presume you’re against it because you never got the chance to see what’s actually about; it’s not the cute posters and everyone holding hands but putting  _just a little more effort_  in the relationship you already have or confess for the matter,” she says all in one breath. 

Her face is red now and she desperately tries to catch her breath. It’s like she wants him to believe her vision of this day and will do anything to push it through his thick skull. 

Hanamiya smirks. He won. 

“Then show, what it’s all about,” he says and stops in his tracks. 

That’s not what he was supposed to do but the words just came out of his mouth. 

The result is more satisfying than even, though.

The Girl’s lower lip quivers. “Th-that’s n-not possible…” she stammers, “b-by the rules. Please stick t-to them.”

“They’re boring,” he mocks her, chuckling. 

Her eyes are darting from him to every corner of the room, searching for something to hold onto to no avail. Her composure’s broken and she fights herself to at least not to make it worse. 

A beeping sound catches their attention. They both turn to judges on the first row and the President, like everyone else, looks unsettled and startled at their grand ending of the debate. 

“Time’s up,” he manages to say and coughs into his fist, apologising. “Since you have broken the rules, Hanamiya-kun, it’s fair to say that ___-san won. Do you have any objections?”

“None at all,” Hanamiya says, pleased with himself. Not a word about how she allowed him to break the rules and even stopped the judges from their attempt at telling him off earlier. Valentine’s Day lovers and pro-debate-member hypocrites. 

It’s pitiful, really.

“Then we’re done for today.” The President turns to people behind him and bows a little. “Thank you all for joining us today.”

A tiny crowd (as long as seven people can be counted as such) begins to pack up and exchange a few words with the President. Obviously, only the same fellow nerds would spend their today’s evening to watch and participate in debates. The fact that Hanamiya technically falls into line with them makes him feel disgusted. He’s here for different reasons.

He blinks and stops looking at the audience, turning back to the Girl but all he sees is her blurry figure disappear behind the door. 

Maybe it’s the fatigue in his muscles and mind that makes him prone to anger. It’s unfair to leave when he just won and he’s yet to learn how she knows his name. His original plan implied his win then going home but now he knows he won’t be satisfied until he catches her.  

There’s nothing left for him to do except to follow her. 

_You’re not going anywhere._


	10. Chapter 10

Hanamiya doesn’t find her in the hall, so he quickly paces towards the main door. There aren’t many ways to escape but if she chose a different way he wouldn’t be able to catch up to her. Tomorrow doesn’t suit him. 

When he emerges back into the cold outside world, it helps him to calm and focus better. He feels a rush of energy, albeit it’s small, and notices a familiar light blue scarf not far from him. The Girl is literally running for her life. 

Any other day, it’d be funny. 

His steps are heavy on the snow and she turns to see who’s making the crunching noises. Her eyes widen in shock and, defeated, she slows down. Once he found her, there was no chance she’d get away and she understood that well enough to stop. 

As soon as Hanamiya’s beside her, he walks near her almost brushing their shoulders. 

The Girl’s head is lowered as she stares at the pavement. He sees there’s no winter jacket on her, the only thing keeping her warm is the white shirt and black formal jacket without sleeves and this scarf. She’s shivering. Was she rushing so much she forgot or purposely left her outerwear? Or she had none at all?

In the end, Hanamiya decides he doesn’t care. 

“You owe me,” he says, watcher her for any reaction from above. 

The answer doesn’t come right away. “I don’t owe you anything,” she says as if trying to remember what possibly made him say this. 

“You’ve taken a win topic.” He presses his thumb to the palm, counting. 

“There’s no such thing as a win topic.” Her voice is pedantic. “Or side, for that matter.”

“You knew my name before I learned yours,” he ignores her. Index finger joins in. Two.

“On one of the first days, I was right behind you when you singed next to your name,” she says, now finally looking at him, defensive. “It’s not my fault I have a good memory for useless things! I didn’t even mean to…” Her mouth flies open to say more, but the Girl shuts it. Saying more would be less believable and she knows it, but still desperately wants to prove him her side. 

She is back to looking at the ground. They turn in the direction of a bus station, but not the one that would lead to Hanamiya’s dorm. Or any of university dorms. 

“Oh really?” he asks, mocking her further. 

“It’s true!” she says louder than she should’ve.

He wants to test one, rather an absurd, theory.

“For two years?” 

“It’s not my fault,” she mumbles and proves him right. She remembered it from the very first days, not of this year but previous. “In high school, I knew someone with the same surname and the first name’s pretty common, too. It’s not like if you asked me I’d give you exactly the right answer but when you said it I knew it was true.” She pauses. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“And third,” Hanamiya continues counting, not to her relief, “you still haven’t convinced me why today shouldn’t be canceled. Which means you failed the debate.”

“I was supposed to convince the judges, not you,” her tone is still defensive but more serious now. “And that would imply that I lost, which disproves your ‘win topic’ reason.”

They come to a standstill at the bus stop. 

“I won and I have arguments and you broke the rules.”

“You ran away.”

The Girl purses her lips. “That was after.”

 _So she’s not going to deny._  He smirks, watching her from the corner of his eye. It’s interesting to play with her so far. 

“If you’re not going to resist it,” Hanamiya’s lips spread wider, “then I can be generous enough to make it one.”

“One what?” She frowns and shrinks back when sees his face. 

“You owe me,” he reminds. 

She looks at him unsure and whispers, “What is it?”

Hanamiya doesn’t bother answering, but leans closer to her and gives a meaningful look. Seconds pass before her eyes widen in shock. 

“I don’t how to,” she mumbles. “I’ve never spent it with anyone.”

“You’re unnecessarily protective over it.”

“I told you I don’t need someone to appreciate the day.” The Girl fumbles with her scarf when the bus arrives and she can turn away from him to hop in. “Besides chocolate gets pretty cheap the day after.”

Now, that’s the only thing Hanamiya likes about the Valentine’s. Cheap chocolate that’s left over after. His roommate always complains that literally the entire room is filled with dark chocolate that he hates. And the wrappers. Oh, the wrappers. Hanamiya likes to leave them on the other side of the room, keeping his own clean. 

“And of course you never spent it with anyone,” he says, sitting next to her. 

“Hey!” she yelps. “That’s mean.” 

“Oh really?” He laughs lightly, yawning. 

“Don’t complain later.”

“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow. “The one who will be complaining and crying is you. And it’s a matter of how. Not if.”

Her cheeks are red from both cold and embarrassment, and she looks at him as if she wants to fight him but he can’t take her seriously now. 

Suddenly, she bumps her body with his side and rests her chin on his shoulder. “I’m cold.” 

_Like that’s an excuse._

“I don’t care.”

“Well, neither do I.” She shrugs and hides hands in the scarf, nudging her nose between his sweater and jacket. 

Hanamiya yawns again and finds no strength to push her away. He rests his head on hers, closing his eyes and falling asleep on her soft hair which smell distinctly reminds him of his mother’s. Must be the same perfume. How did he miss it before?


	11. Chapter 11

The Girl leads him into her small apartment on the last floor of six-storey building. It’s a small studio with a kitchen right after the entryway where he leaves his shoes and a living room that has only one low kotatsu with pillows around it. She must be using it as a bed, too.

They plop onto it and hide their limbs under the blanket while it heats up. Hanamiya yawns, feeling the warmth of the room. He wants to forget everything and return to the soothing feeling he had when he was on the bus with his head resting on the Girl’s. Somehow, he hates to admit, it was comfortable in its own way. Maybe, beggars can’t be choosers. He really wants to sleep.

While he spaces out, trying to find a way to open his eyes, his brain still picks up the noises around him, drawing a picture: the Girl seems to be unpacking her bag, placing everything on the wooden part of kotatsu. Then she leaves him for the kitchen: there’s a sound of running water followed by kettle’s boiling.

“Not the hot chocolate,” he says when she asks him something he doesn’t quite catch.

There’s more shuffling. “Green tea is fine?” She asks near his face.

“Uh-huh.” Hanamiya nods.

“I have something that can wake you up.” He’s sure she’s smiling.

“Not an espresso.” He almost wakes up at the memory of the night that haunts him throughout today: the nagging feeling of the sickness in his stomach. It’s worse since he ate during lunch. He wishes he had an empty stomach.  
“Do you want cookies?”

He wrinkles his nose. “No. Nothing.”

“Alright,” she mumbles.

He loses the track of time, sitting in between the reality, hearing the Girl shuffle around the room, and the dreamland filled with tranquility. They’re one.

Suddenly, there’s an earthquake and he shoots awake, jumping on his seat. His vision steadies on the face of the Girl next to him with her hand on his shoulder. 

“Your tea is ready,” she says, nodding towards the cup on the table. “It should wake you up for the next few hours. I don’t think the effect will last longer for you.”

He takes the warm cup in his hands, noting it’s not hot as he expected it to be. How long did it take her to wake him up? The tea is strong and bitter, the kind of bitter he doesn’t like and makes him cough several times.

“How much did you sleep?” She asks him when his eyes widen at the horrible taste of the tea.

“Three hours. What’s thing made of?”

He turns to her, willing to shove the cup under her nose to smell it because even the smell is too strong but doesn’t when he realises that it’s working and he does feel more alive than ever today.

“Um,” she says, intertwining her fingers in a strange pattern, “I don’t really know, some kind of herbs. People on the Internet reccomend it a lot. Especially, after sleepless nights.”

“Don’t you go to bed at ten?” He mocks her.

She looks at him seriously. “Try that with our professors and their assignments. Isn’t that the reason you’re like this right now?”

He has to laugh at this. “He’s an asshole.” Their first lecture professor today, whose assignment he did during the entire night is the worst person he’s met. ‘The sadist Hanamiya aspires to be’ is the joke he came up upon entering the university. Except, he doesn’t want to be like that guy at all.

The Girl laughs with him, covering her face with hands. She’s not denying his words in ambivalence. It’s wrong to say but it’s true.

The tea, if he ignores its taste, does its job well. The strength of body and mind returns to him with each sip and minute. Which makes him finally question: what exactly is he doing here? Hanamiya promises himself to never sleep less than three hours as, clearly, his choices are not the best.

All the time he spends waking up, she spends in her books, studying. It doesn’t bother him until he’s done and too awake. His fingers tap on the table of their own accord. To stop the annoying sound he rests his head on both fists.

“Seriously? Homework?” he asks.

“I have to do it,” she says nonchalantly; her eyes flicker to him once. “I warned you not to complain. And just so you know, study dates are a thing.”

“People are sure creative,” he hums.

“Better than bringing your significant other to the university.” She rolls her eyes. “It was ridiculous.”

“You enjoyed it,” he retorts and it begins to remind him of a debate. He saw her eyes and her pleased smile when she maneuvered between the streams of people and the crowd.

“Well,” she keeps her nose buried in the textbook, “I’m used to it. It reminds me of lunch time in my high school. I used to get food before anyone else. Nostalgia.” Her lips quirk upwards at the memories.

“People scurried when they saw me,” he says.

She laughs lightly. “Student council or disciplinary?”

“The latter,” he answers and gives her a prolonged look. “You’re supposed to look at the person you’re talking to.”

First, she finishes whatever exercise she was doing then straightens her back and mirrors his position, resting her head on both fists.

“You can work on your argumenting, since you lost today, instead of bugging me about my homework.”

Hanamiya raises his eyebrows. “Why don’t you teach me then?”

Her body shifts backwards from him slightly and there’s shock visible on her face. The longer the silence stretches the redder her face becomes. He’s satisfied with her reactions and how well she picks up the subtle teasing tone in his voice.

“I-I have homework.”

It’s actually amusing to watch the calm, following rules to the tee girl who wears the immaculate clothes and seems to belong to the Nerd group be in a complete mess.

“Your focus should be on me.” He points at his chest with the tip of his finger. “You owe me.  _And,_  you agreed.”

It’s a straight K.O.; her face changes when she realises that he’s coercing her. She must be always keeping her word and he sees it. Not hard to figure that out when his brain beings to function at its top capabilities after two good naps and strong tea.

With lips pursed, turning in the direction of the kitchen, away from him, she mutters, “You’re the one who came up with this.”

His smile widens. It’s devious. “You didn’t hesitate much.”

In the end, he doesn’t mind his choices.

“In truth, you just didn’t want to spend today alone.”

Surprisingly, she isn’t not shocked. It’s like he said the most obvious thing in the world which makes Hanamiya think that he really did do just that. She hasn’t agreed to his proposal because of owing and definitely knowing that he’d get what he wants anyway just for sake of throwing her off and playing and toying with her but… because he’s the only company she’d get. That’s why she was so amendable.

He’s not sure how to feel about that. There’s no disgust over it. There’s no compassion in his heart. It’s a mere fact.

In the end, today was, is fun, he decides.

“What about you then?” she asks. Brushing away all her textbooks and pencils, she lays on the table, taking the most of it with her upper body, and looks up at him.

“Huh? I hate the day.” Hanamiya shrugs. Her tilted in question head makes him continue, leaning on the couch and staring at the ceiling. “All those way too happy people with their pink and red everything are too annoying.”

“Is it because you’re not one of them?” she asks genuinely. If there was any concern or sorrow in her voice, he’d snap at her.

“Tch, no. And when I say no, I mean no.”

He gives her a serious look and she holds up her palms in defeat. It’s strange how not so long ago she tried to persuade him that Valentine’s isn’t such a bad day and now she quietly listens to his side.

“I’m not on the same level with those goody-two-shoes drooling over confessions and petty words.”

He hears her sigh. “To be honest, I don’t like it all that much either.”

This forces him to face her to see if she’s mocking him. Her eyes drill into the wall.

“Maybe it’s because there are so many happy people everywhere and I’m not one of them.” She smirks to herself. “You’re right, I agreed because this way, at least, I wouldn’t be alone. Even though, it’s not exactly how I wanted it to be.”

“Then how?”

“I don’t mean to insult but I don’t know you so I don’t really like you. Though,” she pauses, “You’re kind of fun, I guess.”

He shrugs. “Well, same here.”

“It’s such a shame, our group is predominantly male and, technically, if I put any effort I could’ve got somewhere beyond  _this_  situation.” She’s back to drilling the wall. It’s plain white. “But each day I don’t feel like getting to know any of them. That’s a wrong approach which won’t change anything but if I don’t feel like it, why should I do it?”

She frowns.

“Whatever. In reality, no one needs Valentine’s and White days, they’re a nice touch but we won’t die if they get cancelled. I don’t know.” 

She shakes her head a few times. 

“But I do know that there is too much pink everywhere — I’m not against it — but my eyes hurt and I get disoriented a lot. It’s the worst thing. And chocolate!” Her arms fly up so fast, he thinks she’s going to flip the table. “It gets really expensive. I have to buy in advance all the time and ration it because I always finish more than a half right when they up the prices. How horrible is that?”

The Girl stares at him with that question written all over her face.

For some reason, Hanamiya has a whim he decides to act on. This time, he knows what he’s doing.

He grabs the edge of the table for support and closes the distance between them, easily reaching her lips. He smacks his lips once on hers. Her body is dead on the place when he pulls away and her eyes widen with each second as the realisation sinks in.

He wants to laugh.  _She got so startled she couldn’t move_. Damn, if there was a way to have the same effect on opponents back when he was in high school. Or Imayoshi. That’d be so much fun. Like now.

She blinks fast, swallowing hard, and her face is redder if that were even possible.

“You talk too much,” he says, smirking and licking his lips on purpose. She turns away immediately.

“Meanie,” she says under her breath. He barely catches it.

“Get used to it.”

“Why?” Still not looking at him.

“We study in the same group, so,” he pauses to draw her attention and it’s successful. “You can’t escape from me.”

It’s as if she’s considering his words when he has made no proposals. It’s a fact. He knows he’s enjoying this one.

“If that’s so, then I might as well teach you the proper way to structure your debate and arguments.” Their eyes meet. “You suck at it.”

Hanamiya rolls his eyes. “I don’t need that and I went easy on you.”

“No, you just suck at it,” she retorts, waving a dismissive hand, and walks over to a drawer, pulling out a book that she plops on the table in front of him. He seriously thinks he might punch a girl.

‘Debating for dummies’ is the title on the yellow-black cover.

“You’re pushing it,” he warns her.

She doesn’t take him seriously anymore. “And what are you going to do?”

He smirks and doesn’t think. His hands grab her face and pull her over the table to him and he presses his lips against hers with force, biting them. Her body struggles for balance but she answers back with the same determination she had during the debate trying to win.

There are no winners or losers in this game, though.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 “It’s too late, do you want me to order a taxi for you?”

“Nah.”

“Are you sure? The dorms are pretty far away.”

“Who said I’d be going back?”

“But—”

“You’re not going to throw me away, are you?”

“But you have your own room!”

“I’ll sleep here, right about now.”

“You can’t!”

  “…”

“There’s no place!”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re horrible.”

“Get used to it.  _Dear_.”


End file.
